Glimpses
by Penelope Wendy Bing
Summary: Glimpse, n: a transitory view of, a hasty look, a momentary observation into the lives of the characters we hold dear. Ficlet collection.
1. The Empress

**A/N**- I have been inspired by the number of excellent ficlet collections in this fandom to try my hand at my own. I've drabbled before, but decided not to go with the stiffer one-hundred-word format. And besides, it was time I did something other than torture Deryn in my stories.

I'll be adding onto this as inspiration comes.

And by the way: I do not own _Leviathan _any more'n you do.

* * *

Alek knows what the ideal empress is supposed to be like. She should be beautiful in an ornamental way; empty smiles and sweet diplomatic words should hide her thoughts and feelings. She should have few opinions of her own unless they align with the traditions of the court, and if she simply _must _think for herself, then she should do so quietly.

"_Barking dresses! You _sure _we can't just get me a really nice pair of trousers? No? Oh, stuff it, then!"_

She should be adept at courtly manners, political niceties, and general imperial decorum. The perfect empress speaks softly and quietly, with perfect elocution. She showers those around her with tasteful compliments. She knows almost instinctively what to say to defuse any tense situation, or feed to a newspaper to sate angry citizens.

"_What a barking b- What? You trying to tell me she isn't? Yes, I _know _she's a duchess. She's still a bum-rag."_

She is of high birth. This is a given of course, as common girls are far beneath an emperor. They are not even fit to be his mistress. After all, to interbreed with commoners would sully the royal line. An emperor must marry a woman of high station. Anything else is simply asking for disaster.

"_None of them look very happy, do they? I mean, you'd think they'd be a little more pleased with their aristocratic wives, if that really mattered. Perfectly daft law, I think."_

She is subordinate to her husband. Her primary purpose is to be a vessel for his children. No matter how much she may despise him, she is never to talk back or challenge his authority. She will appear amicable to him whenever others are around. She always supports him in public. She walks two steps behind him, when she is not on his arm.

"_Mm, no, I really don't want to go to the opera. What? I'm _tired. _Go with some duke or somebody like that. I'm sure he'd appreciate it more."_

Yes, Alek knows what makes the ideal empress. Judging by that scale, Deryn Sharp is somewhere between "terrible" and "the greatest scandal ever to disgrace the Hapsburg royal line". Which could explain why he feels a little guilty that he wouldn't change a thing.

"_I love you, too."_


	2. Sing A Little Song

**A/N**- I actually wrote this a couple weeks ago and never published. It is of course the ever-popular set-your-iTunes-on-shuffle-and-write-a-drabble-during-and-based-on-the-first-ten-songs. Although I must admit I'm a cheater. I went back and edited later. Sorry.

Some of these were based primarily on the mood, while others focus more on the words. Labeled by song name, followed by artist name.

* * *

**My Sweet Heart – I Love You! Project**

It was barking annoying, the way she felt around him. She was always either hot or cold, always about to cry or fighting a smile. It was enough to drive a girl mad.

Deryn's toes twisted in her shoes. She did her best to sit still, but she was in one of those infuriating mood ruts. Energy traveled from her chest, rushing down through her arms and legs. She was afraid she might be quivering.

"-and I didn't think Mother would _ever_ forgive me! But thankfully my father sided with me. If he hadn't, I'd probably still be locked up in the castle," Alek chuckled. Deryn laughed, mostly to let out some of the soft, quivering tension in her chest.

Stupid, wasn't it? But she just couldn't help it.

She smiled as he continued. Sometimes she didn't even want to help it.

**What Is This Feeling – Wicked Cast**

Volger watched from across the room as the doctor paraded in and out. Amazing how that woman could raise such a fuss in only thirty seconds. It was clear the rest of _Leviathan_'s passengers felt the same. Crewmen grumbled as they set out to do whatever bizarre new orders she'd issued. Really, for a woman who refused to even announce what her mission was, she seemed to hold an awful lot of sway.

But the count almost couldn't find it in him to resent her for it. While most of the men complained about her mystery, hated her superiority, Volger like it.

Why on earth would he like it?

He did his best to ignore it. Strange, inexplicable feelings had no place in his mission. He had a prince to save, after all. Nora Barlow would have to wait. Unfortunately.

**Lithium – Evanescence**

Deryn stood in black by her father's grave. As much as she hated herself, she was as upset about her future as she was for his loss.

Well, that wasn't really the truth. She knew she was numb. She would mourn him someday soon, but all she could think about at the moment was the fact that Deryn was going to be killed right along with him.

Her mother would never let her fly. She would lock her away to sew and cook and clean. Tears pricked at Deryn's eyes. She couldn't. She couldn't be locked away.

"Oh, Deryn," her mother whispered, taking her arm, thinking her tears were for the death of her father.

"No," Deryn murmured. "No, let me go."

"But-" her mother began. Deryn wrenched her arm away and ran. She wouldn't lose herself. She wouldn't forget the life she wanted. She couldn't let her life go.

**Light Up My Room – Barenaked Ladies**

Dylan clambered up next to Alek. Of course he did. The lad didn't seem to get that you didn't usually just barge in and treat a prince like any other boy, and _especially _not in the middle of the night, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret his friend's lack of propriety.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dylan asked, settling down next to Alek, setting down the glowing lantern. Alek shrugged.

"Nothing."

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

"My parents. It's my... my birthday. And they're... not here," Alek said, his voice breaking. Dylan said nothing. He just sat down next to Alek on the bed and put an arm over Alek's shoulder. Alek couldn't stop the tears from coming, not that he tried. He just allowed himself to cry, in the privacy of his room on the _Leviathan_, and the warmth of his friend's amazing light. And he wasn't thinking about the lantern.

**Come Sail Away - Styx**

It was like nothing Alek could have imagined. In a month his parents had been killed, he'd lost everything, and he'd found himself on a British airbeast, of all things.

He looked up at the _Leviathan_ where it was silhouetted against the sun. It was a strange way for hope to look, all bumpy and uneven. It was a _whale_ of all things. But to him it couldn't have looked any more beautiful.

He couldn't give up; he knew that. It was his responsibility to carry on. A few weeks ago he wouldn't have thought it was possible. But now he had hope. A strange hope filled with ungodly beasts, his own family hunting him down, his first real friend in the form of a mad Scottish boy... and he wouldn't have changed anything about it.

"Young master," Klopp called to him. Alek dropped his hand from his eyes.

"Hm?"

"It's time to be loading up."

"Alright. I'm coming. You're dismissed."

He stood for another moment, looking at the airbeast. He'd always thought only angels brought hope on the wing. Clearly, he'd been wrong.

6. Robots – Flight of the Concords

"What are those things?" Deryn asked her father in amazement, looking down at the sketches.

"Clanker machines," he said with distaste. "They act almost like our fabs do, but they're all made of metal." Deryn's six-year-old eyes widened.

"But- but that's so strange! They're like... dead things. What if they got jealous of all the live people inside of them and got angry?"

Her father laughed. "No, they don't have feelings."

Deryn couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of an unthinking airship. "Well, I bet they don't think it's fair. I bet whenever the Clankers try to fly around, their... things just drop them right out of the air!"

"Oh, alright," her father conceded, admitting defeat to a six-year-old's imagination "They all go around killing Clankers!"

Deryn's eyes widened. She ran away with a squeal. His wife frowned at him, but he could only laugh.

**Simple – Ala Zingara**

Deryn frowned. She hated the luxury of the court in Austria, strangely enough. But being all decked out in silks and jewels and whatnot made her feel like a piece of human jewelry.

Where was Alek, anyway? She was only here for him, because he'd asked her to come.

She was making a fool of herself for him, because she knew he'd do the same thing for her.

He'd come back to her world every year or so, dressed simply, ready for an adventure the way she liked him. In return, she'd come up for these decadent balls. Even though it was daft and pointless.

Ah, there he was, being announced as he came down the stairs. Always had to make an entrance, what with being a barking emperor now. Aye, that was complicated too, and she barking hated it. But he smiled at her from across the room. And that right there was a simple joy, one that she could savor even in the middle of the Austrian castle.

Simple things were the best.

**Jesus Take The Wheel – Carrie Underwood**

Alek had always seemed so sure of himself. That he'd been on a mission. That God had been on his side. The pope was, clearly. But where had it gotten him? The war was over; he'd seen to that. But he hadn't lived to see the peace he'd worked so tirelessly to achieve. Assassinated on the night the Clankers and Darwinists finally declared peace.

Tears pricked at Deryn's eyes. Church on Christmas. Even though her parents weren't particularly religious, she'd always been to church on Christmas. Now, the first Christmas after his death, she didn't know if she could make it.

She took one step closer. Then another. And before she knew it she was running.

There'd been so much pain. So much loss. The familiar hum of the church enveloped her. She stood in awe, struck by everything Christmas had once been. A refuge. She wanted it back. She'd lost so much. Maybe she wasn't ready to give up God or Christmas just yet.

"Hey lady! You alright?" Asked a little boy, loudly, seeing her tears.

"Not yet," she replied, "but almost."

**Apologize - OneRepublic**

"I'm sorry, Deryn," he whispers. "I... should have come sooner."

"Aye," she says back. "You should have."

Alek looks at the ground. She's struck by how unfair it is. After all those years of wishing, he tells her now?

"You should have come years ago. Before you were married. Before I was getting married," she says, her voice growing in strength. "I waited on you, Aleksandar, and you didn't come. You're too late. Now, please leave. I'm getting married in an hour, and I have things to do."

His mouth works. She can see the pain in his eyes. It's clenching her stomach, too, but she knows this is the right thing to do. He turns without a word and flees through the door. Her mother and bridesmaids gawk.

"What was _that_?" A cousin exclaims.

"Nothing," she says. And it hurts, because she knows that's all it was.

**Open Prairie - Lifescapes**

"What is that?" Dylan exclaimed. Alek laughed.

"It's called a prairie," he informed him. Dylan's face was screwed up, frowning.

"That's a barking waste of a landscape. Look at it! All flat," he said. Alek just grinned and turned back.

"I think it's nice," he said after awhile. "All open and quiet."

"I don't like quiet," Dylan grumbled back.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Alek said.

Dylan grunted and ambled away, grumbling about American geography. Alek smiled. Typical Dylan, thinking even the land should rearrange itself for his sake.

But Alek liked it. It felt private. Somewhere he could think without worrying about being hunted down. Somewhere it was just him, the sky, the tall grass, and the airbeast he felt so drawn to.

Sometimes it was nice to be alone. Sometimes he liked being by himself.

He leaned back, enjoying his solitude.

"Alek!" Shouted Barlow, from somewhere inside the ship.

Too good to last.


	3. Persuasion

"Deryn, this is silly!" Alek shouted up the stairs. He didn't bother banging on the door or fiddling with the handle. It was locked. And Deryn had knocked him down the stairs on accident before, swinging the door open without knowing he was on the other side. He almost wouldn't have been surprised if she replicated the situation on purpose, provided she was angry enough.

"I don't care! I'm not going," she shouted back. Alek leaned against the wall, sighing heavily. Deryn had always been good at dealing with antagonism from very nearly every front (and the gossipy old women at church were hardly the worst of her critics), but with the hormones due to her pregnancy helping along, she'd finally snapped.

"Please, darling? It _is _Easter. Mass is only an hour-"

"It's two."

"-an hour or two, and I'd appreciate it," he said gently, hoping charm might help.

"I don't give a clart! Go on your own, if it's so important!" She snarled.

Well. So much for that.

Alek straightened, smoothing out the fabric of his good suit. He knew she couldn't see him, but he felt much more imposing when he looked his nicest. More like the emperor he _could _have been if he hadn't abdicated to marry her. Maybe...

"You know, I could be attending Mass in Austria right now," he bemoaned. "But I'm here with you instead, and-"

"It was _your_ barking idea to give up the throne, so don't go trying that again!"

No. He hadn't been able to guilt her into anything in... ever.

Fine, then. He would just have to order her. They needed to be off in ten minutes to get to the church on time, and Deryn wasn't even dressed. He straightened up, pulling the sleeves of his jacket into place again. He set his face in a severe, determined expression and cleared his throat.

"Deryn, I- Aleksandar von Hohenburg and more importantly your husband, _order_ you to unlock the door _now_!"

He was greeted only by another shrieked obscenity.

Oh well. It had been worth a shot.


	4. And There Is Silence

**A/N**- This was born from me thinking "What if the _Leviathan _ended up on the front line?" and all the wonderful pathos it could produce.

...but really, I can only imagine what Newkirk's mum would have to say bout that, seeing as she only let him _on _the airship to keep himaway from the fighting in the first place.

* * *

Where there had once been great noise; screams of the dying, gunpowder snaps, orders bellowed to grim foot-soldiers; there is now silence.

No cries come from the great airbeast, as it lays in the snow in tatters. Bits of ravaged flesh burn slowly before the heat is sucked away. Ribs stick out, charred black, like the bars of a prison whose occupants have long since starved in their cells.

No cries come from the Scottish airman. War has been unkind to him. The war has been kind to his legacy, though, and his body has been mangled beyond recognition by bullets and bombs. He will be honored as a fallen war hero, as he should be, his secret lost to the ages.

No cries come from the lady and her beasties. They were too small to stand between powers in a war. As was she, she realized too late. This was not her place. She was swept aside like a leaf in the breeze. Her hubris has cost her her life.

No cries come from the prince's men. They lay around him, faithful until death. Their mouths and eyes gape, a gross semblance of life. Ironically, their ten blanks eyes and numerous gaping wounds will be utterly forgotten in the wake of their master's two and few.

No cries come from the Hapsburg prince. He was meant to be safe. The Germans would never touch him in the bunker, he was told. And perhaps they told him the truth, at least at first. They hadn't needed to touch him to put a bullet in his head. But now they touch him. Now his body is displayed as proof. Masses cheer at his death. He is an artifact now, useful only to disgrace their opponents.

No cries come, where there used to be many. The smoke clears. There is only silence.


	5. All Dressed Up

**A/N**- Happy Valentine's Day! As it is such, you all get a lovely snack of fluff. Fluffy fluffity fluff. Come to think of it, this story has a lot of fluff. For me, anyway. If you look at my other short story collection, it's most angst... but I digress. Anyway, hope you had a good day, with plenty of chocolate.

* * *

White is not her color, but he couldn't care less.

She observes herself rather ruefully in the mirror, running her hands along the silken bodice. "Barking corset!" She grumbles. "Ought to make you wear a dress and see how much _you _like it!"

"Nonsense," he replies, winding his arms around her now-miniscule waist. "I wouldn't look half so striking in a dress."

She snorts. "I wouldn't be so sure of yourself. Anybody looking at us now'd think _you _would be the more handsome in _trousers_..."

"But I am!" He replies, feigning affront.

"Mhm. Which is why I had beautiful women chasing after me and you didn't."

"You had _one_, and she was half mad!"

"This is a daft thing to be arguing about, if you ask me," her brother calls. He leans back in his chair in the corner of the room, knitting his fingers behind his neck in a very self-satisfied way. "And face it: I've got you both beat, anyway."

And even she, pained as she is in her corset, has to smile.


	6. Toy Soldiers

She thinks- no, _knows _-Aleksandar doesn't understand. He wouldn't march those toy soldiers around the desk so intently if he did. He doesn't understand how, perhaps soon, those war machines might march across the world in reality, rather than in the imagination of an eight-year-old boy.

She debates whether or not to call to him, and hesitates. With him slumping over his desk that way, with nothing more important than play on his mind, she almost can't bear to shatter his focus. Her son gets so few moments to play in private.

At the same time, it frightens her to see him dabble so young in the sort of war games that might at any time threaten them. She hesitates. She really ought to bring Aleksandar down to the gardens, but…

Sophie closes the door silently without entering, shooing away a servant or two. It can wait. What can't is the moments of quiet her son might not have the luxury of enjoying as long as he should before fate turns them all into toy soldiers.


	7. Propriety

There's always a chance that he's wrong (a very large chance, Count Volger would surely insist), but Alek feels fairly certain he knows what propriety is when it comes to being alone with a young woman. It is, quite simply: don't. He's violated that simple rule, and badly.

Propriety has absolutely nothing to do with Deryn's lips under his, he can say with confidence.

It has nothing to do with her body pressing him back against the door, unless the definition has been recently, conveniently, revised.

Alek is absolutely certain it has nothing to with the conviction that her nails, practically short though they are, will pierce through his shirt if she holds it any tighter.

He really ought to stop them. He's a disgrace to his Catholic upbringing. His father and mother would be ashamed. Yes, that's a good distraction.

Deryn make another vicious, wonderful attack on his mouth.

Well, five more minutes.


End file.
